


Issues of Consent and Old Lovers

by lovesrogue36



Category: Haven - Fandom
Genre: Cabin Fic, Explicit Language, F/M, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Season/Series 05, Sexual Content, Threesome - F/M/M, established threesome, past consent issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2018-02-18 18:25:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2357786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovesrogue36/pseuds/lovesrogue36
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Duke shows up immediately after the events of the 5.03 sneak peek and Mara takes control of the situation. She isn't only a temptation for Nathan, after all. Vague spoilers for 503.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Issues of Consent and Old Lovers

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Haven nor am I associated with any of the cast or crew.
> 
> A/N: This is something of an experiment with the ideas that had the three of them been in a relationship previously, Mara would remember it, and the issues of her consent in that situation. I'm really intrigued by the idea of this new version of the OT3! (Fair warning, this is a bit rough as I wanted to get it up before the episode actually aired.)

Duke wrenches open the door to Garland’s old hunting cabin. Of course this is where Nathan would take her, like he thinks it’s a secret or something. On the contrary, he’s pretty sure Garland used to use it for these same seedy, above-the-law interrogation techniques.

It smells like dust and mildew and a faint aftertaste of burnt sugar when he marches inside, letting the door bang against the wall before he slams it shut. He was intending to make a similar demand anyway, given that Nathan effectively just kidnapped the bitch away to temporary safety as if the Guard didn’t already hate his guts, but it slips out for an altogether different reason: “What the _hell_ is goin’ on here?”

Nathan’s pacing across the narrow room, running a hand through his hair again and again so it stands up straight after every pass. He looks distraught, eyes skittish, and Duke can understand that feeling all too well: they’ve both lost people they loved this week. But it’s Mara that has him puffing up, wanting to kill something, maybe both of them. She’s standing in the middle of the room, totally free with a chain loose at her feet, and looking for all the world like she’s in charge of this little encounter.

Duke’s pretty certain that is exactly the case.

“Welcome to the party.” Mara grins but you wouldn’t call it a smile, not on your life.

“Duke, what’re you-”

Duke’s fists ball at his sides, and he cuts the other man off, voice tight and biting. “You’re shacking up with her now too? Boy, you just don’t care which model she is, do you?”

“Now now, boys. Let’s not waste a perfect opportunity for us to all have that much needed chat.” They both turn dry stares on her and earn an innocent cackle. “Don’t you think we need to talk?”

“Talk about _what?_ ” They’re both thinking it but Duke voices it, his voice as sharp and shear as his new haircut.

“Our little issue, of the romantic variety.” Mara claps her hands together with a maniacal little giggle. “You forget, I have dear, sweet Audrey’s memories. You haven’t just been fucking her all this time, you’ve been fucking me too.”

And doesn’t that just make them feel violated and guilty, all at once.

It takes a moment to really sink in. Nathan looks like he’s going to retch on the wood floor; Duke’s glad he hasn’t had any breakfast yet either. _No. No, she wasn’t there, not when they were-_

Duke rests a hand on his shoulder and squeezes, those long, graceful fingers kneading through his jacket. His eyes flicker to the motion out of the corner of his eye so Duke knows he’s aware of the contact, even if he can’t feel it. They’re- _lovers_ , after all. They should be able to comfort each other and grieve the loss of the woman they love but she _isn’t_ lost. She’s standing in front of them.

She’s pacing and smirking and making subtle threats but she’s _right there_.

Duke guesses he hasn’t heard much of what she’s been saying because Nathan is suddenly interrupting her, the first real words he’s gotten in edgewise since Duke showed up.

“Wait, wait.” Nathan barks a laugh, a humorless, grating sound, partly because he has trouble feeling his tongue against his teeth the way most people can but mostly because he’s _angry_ and _grief-stricken_. “Fuck the euphemisms. You want to have _sex_ with us. You. And us.” It’s a stilted couple of sentences. Nathan always did have trouble talking about sex, but this is something else altogether. This isn’t Audrey anymore.

Nathan looks again like he might be sick, especially/until she lays a hand on his arm. “Nothing’s changed, boys. Unless you didn’t really mean it when you swore ‘for better or for worse?”

“Nobody here is _married_ , you psychotic bitch.” Duke jerks away, the door banging open against the wall.

“Maybe you didn’t swear it, but this one sure was planning to.” Mara runs her hands down Nathan’s chest, that perpetual smirk deepening at his blush. “Your boy’s a romantic.”

“It doesn’t matter what he was planning on because Audrey is _dead_. She’s gone and she never really existed anyway! She was a figment of our imaginations.”

“Now you’re getting it. I’m not the monster here, boys. The people who made me into- Who forced them inside of me, Sarah and Lucy and Audrey and Lexie and all of the others you don’t even know about, those people are the monsters. They’re the Guard.”

“And what, you think we’re going to be your little minions, help you get revenge, just because we used to screw? Fuck off.”

Mara seems to recognize that she’s losing Duke so turns her attention back to Nathan, fingertips skimming his Adam’s apple. They all three hold perfectly still as his throat bobs, skin flinching away from familiar/alien touch. “Audrey isn’t the common denominator in the loves of your life, Nathan. _I_ am,” she murmurs, cocking her head. It doesn’t look curious or calculating this time, though. It’s a sympathetic gesture, or at least it’s meant to look like one.

Duke’s itching to leave, itching to walk out of there and leave Nathan to his obsession and Mara to her power games, but he can’t. Of course he can’t. He loves them, has always loved him and will always love some part of her. He squeezes his eyes shut against the sight of them and the dusty, neglected cabin, and when he opens them again, Mara has her hands pressed to Nathan’s cheeks, milking the power she has over him.

The poor bastard looks like his knees are about to buckle, hands wrapped fiercely around her wrists. “We can _all_ pretend,” she’s whispering, nose brushing his, her lips a breath away. Duke feels strung too tight, just looking at them like that. Intellectually, he knows it’s Mara, knows Audrey is gone and has a much firmer grasp on that concept than Nathan does. But his body isn’t as aware and in the moment he isn’t sure which of them he wants to kiss more but he knows he wants to kiss somebody, taste the desperation that’s pouring off both of them.

Her lips brush Nathan’s in a demanding kiss, (who would expect anything less from her, after all), and Duke watches, frozen with his hand on the doorknob as she winds her arms around his neck. Nathan’s hands, (those always-battered, tempting hands), slide up her body, all desire and muscle-memory. He watches their tongues dance and fight, watches Mara steal his breath and resolve with a few soft strokes.

When they finally part, they’re both panting and Nathan’s whimper of defeat and protest is nothing short of heart-wrenching (and arousing, goddamn.)

Duke runs a hand over his face, breathing a quiet _fuck_ as he lets the door slide easily shut again _._ “I can’t leave you here with her, can I?”

Resting his head against the top of hers, Nathan twists to look at him, eyes damp and mouth red. Mara’s grinning at him, arm’s still wrapped around his neck, but if Duke looks closely, she’s just as affected: her breath is shaky and she’s plastered against Nathan’s chest the way Audrey always did when she was horny.

Duke shakes his head, trying to forget that thought. That wasn’t Audrey, apparently, that was just Mara bleeding through. He doesn’t know the real Audrey’s habits, the girl without memories, the girl who walked into the woods and came out a blank slate. He knows Mara, not Audrey. _They_ know Mara.

Audrey never existed.

He’s reaching out for her arm before he even realizes it. “Stop, just _stop_.” Mara lets him drag her off Nathan, kicking the chain on the floor as she trips towards him. Somehow she makes it look graceful, where Audrey would have been a little absurd and pulled a face at her own clumsiness. He always liked that about her: her self-assured absurdity.

Duke just tries not to think about what Nathan did or planned to do with that chain.

“Stop what?” she murmurs, fingers still trailing across Nathan’s palm behind her, keeping him grounded and ecstatic. “We’ve been at this for so long, the three of us. Why stop now?”

Duke grinds his teeth, squeezing her arm harder than he ever would have before. “Because everything is different now. We loved a woman who never was, like loving a computer program.”

Her face softens though it’s still a mask. “No, Duke. You’ve got it wrong. Audrey Parker as you knew her never existed the way you or I or Nathan do but she wasn’t just a program. Parts of her were that woman and parts of her were me… It’s complicated. They stuffed her inside me and made me think like her but I wasn’t her.” Mara presses her lips together, eyebrows drawn and jaw tense. “I try not to think about it.”

Nathan is making faces at him over her shoulder, although he probably doesn’t realize it. Can’t feel the muscles in his face moving. He looks alternately worried, devastated, (his default state since the lighthouse), and pleading, yearning, (like he wants this as much as she does, in some deep, dark, would-never-admit-it place in his soul.)

“What do you get out of this?” he asks, throat constricting. “Why would you want us as… lovers, again? Aren’t we just a reminder of all the time you spent as a victim?” They’re words he chooses deliberately, just to spite her. To peel away the flesh on her bones and poke at her wounds. To prove she has wounds and weaknesses. _Lovers. Victim._ For that matter, _time._

How many hundreds of years has she spent as a victim, an unwitting and unwilling lover to countless fools like he and Nathan?

The cabin is quiet, broken only by the drip-drip outside of dew falling from the trees and the rustle of mice in the corners, just the tiniest scratching at wood and newspaper.

When she speaks, her voice is rougher, quieter. Gone is the Mad Hatter-giggle and the put-upon bravado that she normally backs up with homicide. “Because I remember loving you. I also remember loving William, the real love from all those years ago, and the dozens of men and women I’ve loved since then. But you’re here now and when I see you, it’s not just a distant memory. I remember everything we’ve been through, everything you’ve tried to do for me, for _her_ , and even though I try to hate you for loving her, I still _remember_. I-”

Duke really has to start thinking before he acts because by the time his brain catches up again, he’s kissing her, hands on her narrow waist and tongue softly exploring the mouth he’s already so intimately familiar with. He should be disgusted by her, should be able to see past the exterior shape of Audrey and hate the monstrous, evil creature inside.

He can’t.

It seems Nathan can’t either because, given this slightest hint of permission to indulge himself, he’s running his hands over her arms, unpinning her hair and untucking her blouse. He always gets this look on his face, like bliss and agony and heroin, when he touches her, this infinite, powerful woman who can ease his numb existence.

Mara licks into his mouth and Duke feels like Nathan must have earlier: like his knees are about to buckle. It’s been months since they did this and he’s racing to relearn old habits, although Mara seems to remember it like it was yesterday. With Jennifer and Lexie and the mess with the Guard, they drifted apart as lovers; he let them have their space and their angst and he moved on with a normal level-headed girl. (Who spent some time in an institution. But really, who hasn’t in Haven?)

He groans against her mouth and feels the impossible weight of guilt over running straight back to them, having sprinkled Jennifer’s ashes only a few hours ago.

Nathan’s fingers tug on his zipper and he loses any ability to call this _wrong_. It’s always been right with them and he’ll always love Jennifer but-

Duke nearly chokes on his tongue as a hand wraps around his cock and fingernails scrape against his scalp. Sensory overload isn’t just Nathan’s weakness, apparently. They’re stumbling towards the narrow bed even though there’s no way it’s going to hold all of them. Somebody yanks the blankets off the bed onto the dusty floor and they tumble down on top of it. Duke winces as his knees and elbows hit uneven hardwood but he’s the only one, given the more-than-human and Troubled status of his bedmates.

Mara’s lips brush his ear, her shirt gaping as Nathan fumbles open the buttons one at a time. In his head, he imagines her saying any number of manipulative things.

_You don’t have to like me but we all know you still love me._

_It’s a good thing you’re so weak, or Nathan here would be left to fend me off by himself._

But all she whispers is, “Thank you.”

Duke rips the rest of her buttons off, moving down her body with nips and kisses, as if he’s arrogant enough to think he can mark her. Nathan’s fingers explore his newly short hair, and Mara moans encouragingly as he works her slacks open.

One would almost think she meant everything she said.

When he glances up at them, his fingers tangled in her panties, he finds Nathan watching him over her shoulder, his hand on her breast and her head thrown back, apparently happy to let them play her for a moment. She is an instrument they’re both rather skilled at, after all, and she knows it. Duke meets the other man’s eyes, finds so much pain, so much more feeling than a man who can’t feel should have to endure.

He’s taken all this the hardest: they all miss Audrey but Nathan can barely function without her. Mara squirms between them, tugging on his shirt and grinding back against Nathan. He watches Nate’s eyes almost roll back in his head and shakes off the unending loop of guiltpainallherfault. They’re doing this, so he might as well do it right.

Duke pries off her sensible shoes, (Audrey’s influence), slacks and lace panties, setting his mind to the task at hand so he doesn’t have to dwell on what it all _means_. She’s reaching behind, the immediately identifiable sound of button, then zipper, then Nathan surging up, panting against her shoulder as she strokes his cock in one hand, presumably.

“In me. God, fuck, in me now-” It’s mostly an order but almost a beg and Nathan crosses his arms over her chest to comply. This is an old dance: Nathan gets to be in Audrey because otherwise he can’t feel his own orgasm, but Duke gets to help. Gets to weave them into one another. Mara seems to remember that too because she balances a hand on his shoulder and lets him guide her bare hips back.

Duke’s fingers tighten on her pale skin for a moment and he hears himself mumble something about protection. Always the bedroom boy scout.

“Audrey’s on the pill,” they both gasp out, and he wonders when that happened because she always used to be hyper-diligent about protection with both of them. It’s all the reassurance he needs though, large hand already slicking between her legs to grasp Nathan’s cock. He feels kind of sorry for him, panting, turned on and so hard it’s almost painful to look at, (if he weren’t so damn attractive), but unable to feel his own arousal until the tip of his cock slides against her warm, drenched skin.

Mara arches her back without any prompting, letting Duke guide her down onto the straining, desperate cock. He might think her unaffected but for the way her knuckles go white on Nathan’s wrist and that she squeezes her eyes shut tight, teeth in her lip.

His pants are far too tight and he’s aching to be touched but Duke can’t help watching them for a few long moments. They’re just rocking into each other, Nathan mumbling incoherent pleas, his body starved as ever. That’s his favorite part: watching Nathan crumble into pure need.

It’s not long before she’s yanking on his hair though and he knows what she wants. For once since he walked into the cabin, he’s willing to admit that her demands and his desires line up exactly, and Duke pitches forward on his elbows, resting a scratchy cheek on her thigh. He draws a deep breath, eyes falling half shut as he realizes she still smells like Audrey. Of course she does, she is Audrey. Audrey is her. _Audrey never existed_ so she really just smells like Mara.

Pushing the thoughts away, the twisted, tangled, knotted thoughts, he focuses on Nathan’s groans and licks a wet stripe from the base of his cock buried inside her up to her clit, and earns a bone-deep tremble. Duke throws himself into it, sucking her clit very gently between his teeth and lips and laving attention on what small strip of Nathan’s cock he can reach. He isn’t sure if the other man can feel his tongue, pinned so close in against Mara’s magic-fucking-skin, but he relishes the feel of ropey muscle under his mouth and the fact that she bucks into his face, as if them together, even in such a small way, gets her the same way it did Audrey.

Audrey loved to watch, loved even the _idea_ of them together. Her boys.

Duke loses track of how long it takes for Nathan to jerk beneath her, coming uncontrollably, (they must have really been going at it when she was pretending to be Lexie because his stamina is greatly increased from the last time Duke remembers), but Mara comes quick on his heels, her toes curling in the blanket and a hoarse shout tumbling out of her. His face is wet and sticky with her come when he lifts his head and he wipes his mouth with the back of a hand.

Guess he still knows her inside and out, even if he doesn’t think he wants to.

The blood is pounding in his ears but he thinks she’s saying it’s his turn, dragging him up and making Nathan lick her palm before wrapping it around his cock. Duke lurches forward, long arms flailing around both their half-naked shapes as she jerks him off, murmuring lurid promises in his ear.

Nathan strokes a hand absent-mindedly, (and, truly, he’s only half aware he’s even doing it), over Duke’s arm as it lies flung across his side, and Duke’s coming in the space of a few heartbeats. He’ll try not to be embarrassed about that.

They all three lay there in a sticky, silent pile, familiar postures and gestures, touching each other in the comfortable way only old lovers can. Mara sighs softly and stretches between them, her face smooth and relaxed for the first time since they pushed William in the hole. Soon she’ll be back to the mask of tempting evil-doer, Duke is sure, but for now she looks like their girl. He pushes his fingers through her hair and meets Nathan’s; they don’t acknowledge it, just let their hands rest together on her neck.

Footsteps sound outside, quiet and careful, but the crack of twigs and the rustle of leaves gives them away. Duke closes his eyes, remembering abruptly why he came here. To warn them, (no, to warn _Nathan_. He couldn’t have cared less what Dwight did with her, at least that had been his intention.)

Surely a tumble with two old lovers isn’t enough to change his mind on that so quickly.

He lays there thinking about it, betraying his own values and the people he loves, until the door bursts open, the Guard waiting with pitchforks and bullets.

 


End file.
